


Can Be Forgiven

by alliancedogtags



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fallout 4 - Freeform, Fallout 4 AU, First Kiss, M/M, Tooth Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, but! connor has feelings and markus is all too happy to help with them, i used the word smile/smiling in this too much i'm sorry, it barely even touches on the au i've been thinking about, so it's not very accurate, this is a fic that i wrote while indulging myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 16:06:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19009177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliancedogtags/pseuds/alliancedogtags
Summary: connor's made a checklist of the things he's started feeling since amari added to his programming. his first step is to tell markus.(fallout 4 au where markus works with dez in the railroad and connor was a courser sent to retrieve him)(but this part is long after that)





	Can Be Forgiven

**Author's Note:**

> soOoOoO this is purely self indulgent and i honestly just said "fuck canon!" and wrote this how i want. it's been kind of a challenge getting past my anxiety to share this, lol, but here you go!
> 
> thid is from an au that i haven't fully fleshed out quite yet. (i've been on a fallout kick) markus is a synth, working alongside desdemona to aid in freeing other synths from the institute. connor is a courser that was tasked to find and return him, though the more time he's spent in the world, the more turmoil he has over what is the right thing for him to do.
> 
> that being said, this is a drabble, and it barely even touches on this au, so it's just fluff right now!

    It's a quarter past eleven when there's a knock at the Home Plate. Markus had long since given up on the planning and the plotting, working on the map taped up to the cement wall of the building. 

    North was lounging end to end on the couch, a blanket from Simon draped across her body as she slept. Simon himself was in the armchair, chin tucked into the collar of his jacket and feet up on the coffee table, having dozed off at nine like his common schedule. Josh was the main one up, bent over the armor workbench in the corner of the building, music playing on the radio and humming along.

    Markus himself was running a paintbrush along the steel plating of his power armor, the hum of the radio clearing away his thoughts, his worries, his stressors. Every line was made without the help of his mind, set free from his tedious algorithms and programs, every little bit wearing away at the seams of what he was trying to work on within himself.

     "Markus," Josh called from the loft above him, the floorboards creaking when he sat back to look over the edge. Markus, so lost in his own ministrations, had missed the sound. "You mind getting the door? I have the torch out up here."

    "Of course," Markus replied, dipping the brush into the glass of grey, cloudy water and pushing away from the stand. A kink had worked its way into his neck as he'd hovered over the plating for the armor. 

    Anything could come of it. Anyone could be at the door, friendly or not. Markus couldn't help instinct when he grabbed his pistol from the stand beside his bed.

    Diamond City wasn't friendly for synths, after all. Anybody could find out what secret the four nomads who holed up in the Home Plate kept. Even with the Institute destroyed, the residents were on edge as much as ever, accusations thrown across the marketplace. 

    Instead it was Connor who stood at his door, backlit by the neon signs of the stands in the middle of the market. Boy stuck out like a sore thumb, his dress shirt still clean and pressed, having been stashed away in his permanent bedroom at the Bobrov's dugout.

    "Connor." Markus couldn't help the little rush of excitement that went through him, setting aside his pistol and opening the door to the Home Plate just a little bit further. Connor looked ruffled, slightly, hair mussed by his anxious hands, which fidgeted at his sides now. Connor looked over Markus' shoulder at the other Jericho members sprawled across the spanse of the home. "You want to come in?"

    "I would, yeah, but. Well," Connor started, before adjusting both hands so he could worry at the finely rounded edges of his fingernails. "Do you want to go for a walk, actually? The evening's quite enjoyable."

    The sincerity in that, the fine edges of a soft smile tugging crookedly at the corners of his mouth and tugging at the same time at Markus' heart, or at least the memory core  that pulsated beneath the hard plastic encasing the wires in his chest. He had that very special way like that, making Markus's mood lift without even trying. How could he say no?

    "I'm going out," he called over a shoulder to Josh, the door clicking shut before he could even get a reply.

    That puppydog look, though, neon pink lights reflecting across one sharp cheekbone and shadows laying across the other side, brown eyes alight with their own little bits of joy.  _ That's _ why Markus could never say no.

    Their first bit of the jaunt was quieter, nothing but the quiet sounds of Diamond City accompanying them. Occasionally the squeak in a neon bulb that was wearing out, the quiet slosh of water beneath Markus' boots or the squeak of Connor's shoes on the metal grates they walked on. In brief moments Markus found himself wishing to reach out, to catch the hand closest to him as Connor flipped the bottlecap over his knuckles, jaw visibly tense in the low light of the alleys they passed through. As much as Markus enjoyed the bustle of daytime Diamond City, he also enjoyed this - quiet evenings in the dark, muted conversations and passing shadows coaxing him in.

    "You were thinking of something, weren't you? When you knocked at my door." Markus had been thinking long enough, mind awry with so many scenarios and the overwhelming artistic rush of the details around him. His companion looked up from where he'd been looking at the flickering edges of a neon sign.

    "I was," Connor started quietly, eyes lifting to the walkway ahead of them. "Have you thought about the way things are since the Institute was put to flame?"

    "In what sense?"

     Connor didn't answer that, instead flipping the bottlecap over his knuckles again. When Markus looked up, Connor's gaze was distant.

    "Personal things." When the cap lay between his index and middle finger, he stopped it on the edge. "Things about other people."

    He gave no explanation save that. 

    Grasping for straws it was, then.

    "Sure. My friendship has deepened with each member of Jericho now that we have time to breathe." It was a practical response, one twinged with just that little bit of deviancy that had brought them together. Finally they stopped, feet at the edge of the lake around the purification plant, the quiet hum of the evening and the sweet chirp of crickets relaxing the tension in him. "Why do you ask? Are these adjustments going alright with you?"

    "Of course, yeah." The bridge of Connor's nose scrunched, eyes darting away from Markus, hands busy and anxious again. "Hank and I get along well enough. With the Railroad's intentions becoming more clear and a safe option, I've found myself bonding with more members of the agency, as well."

    "That's a good thing, Connor." Markus lifted a hand, resting it against the back of Connor's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body beneath the crisp fabric of his dress shirt. "I'm happy for you."

    That soft brown gaze turned to him again, the corners of his mouth lifting in a soft, genuine smile. Markus let his hand rest there just a little bit longer.

    Connor was the first to break the eye contact. His gaze jerked away from Markus', lifting a hand to worry a hand through the wispy ends of his hair, the moonlight playing pretty images at the small remnants of a shy smile. He had that way, all charming edges that even Markus didn't yet know about - though he sorely wanted to - sunshine in that smile and sweet promises in his eyes when he looked at Markus again. A sincerity in that look, one that certainly would have stolen his breath away, had he needed to breathe.

     "I get the feeling that you aren't here to talk about your detective agency," Markus finally spoke, breaking the brief moment of silence between them. Unfortunately that caused Connor to look away, teeth catching his bottom lip in a gesture just barely noticeable by the dark shadows of the night. The lights behind him gave just the slightest glow at his edges. "What's on your mind, Connor?"

    "It's taking a little bit to get used to this. Feeling, I mean. My coding within the Institute may have been complex, but it never quite accounted for all of these sudden emotional changes." Connor lifted a hand, absently running his fingertips over the soft line of his jaw. "Since Doctor Amari added to my programming, I'll admit that sometimes I just feel…"

    Connor paused. Markus finished the sentence. "Lost?"

     "Lost," Connor echoed, gaze lifting to Markus' face again and lingering there. When he spoke again his voice was something fragile, a glass ornament in a careful hand, cushioned but always on the verge of shattering. "I'm so lost, Markus."

     How Markus longed to take the synth's face in his hands, smooth his thumbs along his cheekbones, to press a kiss against his forehead in that soothing manner, not unlike the comforting tactics of a human. Since his programs had been standardized, well… Markus had felt a lot of things he hadn't quite been ready for. Especially when it came to Connor.

    Instead he settled for resting a hand on Connor's bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze through the fabric of his shirt. That shook him from his thoughts.

    "I feel things now for the first time. I feel proud when Hank says I've done a job well done. Frustration when folks talk about us like we're nothing." Markus met his gaze when Connor looked up this time, the gears working in his head damn near visible. "Nervous when you talk to me."

    "Nervous?" As if on cue, his gut twisted worriedly. What about him made Connor nervous? His concern must have shown in his expression, because Connor gave a small laugh.

    "Not bad nervous. Good nervous. When we talk, sometimes you'll say things, and I'll feel very," Connor paused, picking between words. "Flustered? In a human way."

    "You get flustered around me." Markus couldn't quite believe it, actually. When Connor had put a gun to his chest in the Old North Church, he'd palpably felt the inner turmoil raging inside of Connor, the uncertainty that he was doing the right thing. It had been so raw, such a stark emotion, synthetic hand shaking in its grip on the pistol he held. 

    Now he felt that same emotion, just different, happiness in Connor's smile when he looked up at Markus, eyes big and bright and full of wonder. That was what really took Markus' breath away, stalling for a brief second. What could he do, besides grin back at the detective like a big fool?

    "Just like that, Markus. Nervous when you look at me like that." Though Connor stayed grinning crookedly, unbothered by the fact that Markus was in his space the way he was. Instead he seemed wondrous about the way it made him feel. "What a human emotion."

    "An emotion everyone should feel," Markus replied, voice gentle, smile soft. He lifted a hand to touch the side of Connor's neck in a featherweight brush, revelling in the fact that it sent a shiver running down the detective's synthetic spine, a quick breath escaping him and interest displayed clear in his smile and the way his eyelids half-closed as he continued to look at him. Markus thought he might very well drown in that look. Everything about it pulled him in.

    This time Connor was the one who took initiation, though, at a surprise to both of them when he leaned up on his toes, hands resting on the broad expanse of the rebel's shoulders. The first kiss was soft, sweet, lingering only momentarily but tinged with the little bit of hope for more.

    And more Markus gave him. Connor broke the contact, starting to pull his hands away, but Markus lay his over them and kept them on his shoulders, unable to help the little grin that tugged at his lips. At least when he opened his eyes, Connor also had the same goofy smile; Markus couldn't help but draw him in for another kiss, sweeter, deeper this time, Markus laying his hands over the man's slim waist, tilting his head for a better angle.

    It felt good. Felt like what he thought of when he'd met Connor in the Church. Felt like that giddy little feeling he'd felt the first time that they had interfaced, even if only to show Connor the location of the newest Railroad safehouse, out in the wasteland. 

    Felt like a paintbrush over canvas, his hands correctly painting every mark and streak and the image coming out perfect. Gave him the feeling of his favorite song playing on a radio at the end of a pleasant day. 

    Maybe it was like that, but it was also achingly new, his hands tracing along the line of Connor's waistband, tugging him in closer and swallowing up the little sigh that escaped the detective, whose arms had wrapped around Markus' neck again. Markus chased the sigh with his lips, pressing firmer and stealing the man's breath away. 

    In a manner of speaking.

    Who could have guessed that the man who nearly shot him would be so close now, Connor's fingers tracing at the base of his skull and sending tiny impulses through him, feeling too warm at the collar of his shirt and heart guaranteed to be fluttering, if he had one.

    "Connor," he whispered into those soft lips, feeling them give, part, unable to resist swiping his tongue across his lower one. That pulled the sweetest little gasp from him.

    When North had kissed Markus, it had been so much different. Unsatisfying. The same for her, judging by the way she'd pulled away with a disappointed scrunch to the bridge of her nose. That had been one thing, just to break through that little bit of curiosity, new emotions and programs and feelings running amok with their sensors.

    This was so much better. 

    Connor's tongue met his, sweet and a firm pressure, urging Markus on, giving him the permission.

    It wasn't until the dull drone of the Diamond City eyebot was close enough to startle him that he finally pulled away. Part of him had forgotten where exactly he was.

    Connor's lips found the corner of his mouth, kissing the edges when they turned up in a smile, leaning back just slightly to look up at Markus. Then he was glancing to the side, watching the eyebot float past them, music chiming through its speakers. Markus took the opportunity to grab the one wild piece of hair that just never quite wanted to stay in Connor's clean getup, tucking it back and enjoying the giddy look Connor gave him.

    "Connor, I've got about a hundred things running through my head right now, but what I really want to know is what you're thinking," Markus murmured, fingers coming to rest on Connor's jaw when those brown puppydog eyes turned on him. 

    "For once, nothing." When Connor said it, it was with a sincere smile, his fingers tugging at the collar of Markus' shirt. "Just you."


End file.
